“I’m not that person, Commander.”
“He’s well aware of that, but you nevertheless keep secrets, and until he uncovers them, he’ll keep up the pursuit.”
“Even though he knows I’m here to assist you?”
“Yes.”
I grunted unhappily. Putting up with Kiro’s heated overtures on top of everything else was not what I wanted—or needed—right now. “What should we do about Lady Pyra?”
“I shall discreetly inquire about her.” He hesitated. “Although the best means of finding information would be from the source itself. If you could lure her away with the promise to spend time—”
“‘Spend time’ being a polite plateau term for have sex?”
“Yes.” His smile flashed again. “We’ll provide you with a quick-acting draught that’ll make her talk and then sleep. She’ll wake with no memory of what went on.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And what if I actually want to have sex with her?”
“Then we’ll provide a slower-working draught.” He studied me for a moment. “Which would you prefer?”
“The latter.” Not only because I did desire her, but because it’d be safer. She might not remember being questioned but the lack of satiation might well raise suspicions.
“Ah, good.” He paused and took a long drink. “I’ll give my blessing to such an interlude when she seeks it.”
“Oh, she has no intention of seeking permission.”
“Indeed? Intriguing.”
“Yes.” I paused. “Should I be expecting to approve a liaison for you?”
“I haven’t agreed to such as yet.”
Meaning he’d certainly been approached. I couldn’t help but wonder who he was waiting for.
He took another drink, and then said, “It would seem our targets tomorrow night—aside from Pyra and our so far absent hosts—need to be Lady Hedra and Marcus’s mysterious hetaera, whoever she may be. Whatever is going on, its epicenter revolves around this house. I can feel it in the stone of this place.”
The only thing I was feeling right now was the unacknowledged thrum of desire that seemed to burn between us.
“And what of Lord Kiro?”
“He’d provide no future problem if you’d tell him what you conceal.” There was the faintest hint of reproach and annoyance in his voice.
“Kiro may be investigating whatever dark deeds are being played out in this place, but I don’t trust him.”
“Kiro is many things, but he’d never betray either the Forum or Winterborne.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“As sure as I’ve ever been about anything.”
Which only made me wonder all the more about the relationship between the two men. I doubted it was in any way sexual, but there was certainly something that bound them.
I pushed to my feet. He made no move to follow. “If the game proceeds tomorrow night, I’d best be fresh for it.” I hesitated, and raised an eyebrow. “Are you coming to bed, Commander?”
It was both an invitation and a dare, and I wasn’t entirely surprised when he merely shook his head.
“For intrigue’s sake, it’s better if I don’t.”
Because, I knew, many of those in the ruling house had as much Sifft blood in their veins as magic, and would therefore note the unfulfilled desire that rode me. It would increase the questions surrounding us, given we were an acknowledged pairing, however informal, and perhaps make the hunters within the ruling ranks even more determined to ensnare.
And though I understood all this, I couldn’t help asking, “For intrigue’s sake, or is it more an aversion to my stain?”
He didn’t immediately react. He simply studied my face in such a way that heat began to infuse my cheeks.
“Your face,” he said eventually, his voice soft. “Is exquisite, staining or no. Whoever has made you believe otherwise is a fool.”
The words made me smile, even though I’d heard their echo before. I’d believed it back then and it had led to heartache. It wouldn’t be in any way smart to believe them again, no matter how genuine they sounded.
No matter how much a part of me wanted to believe.
“Any intrigue I might hold will be of no matter once I meet with Pyra. The race to see who will be the first to taste my so-called delicacies will have been won.”
“On the contrary,” he murmured, “the mere fact you’ve chosen Hawthorne’s youngest daughter to bestow your first favor on will only enflame determination.”
“And so, the wheels of deviousness continue to turn.” I shook my head. “I hope you don’t regret your decision in the long hours of sleep to come.”
“Trust me, I’m not made of stone, Neve, even if I bear it for a name.”
“That is yet to be seen.” I kept my tone light. “I hope you realize I have no intention of making your vow of celibacy easy.”
“And another challenge is presented,” he said. “It’ll be interesting to see who wins this particular battle.”
“It will, won’t it?”
With a nod good night, I stepped around the large cloudsak and headed for our bedchamber. When I was halfway there, I caught the end of the dress, tugged it over my shoulders, and then tossed it lightly to one side. A soft groan followed me as I disappeared behind the half wall.
But he didn’t follow me in. Not then, and not in the restless, hungry hours that followed.
Lord Marcus appeared at the masque early the following evening, but Saska was again noticeably absent. He was a tall, much older man than I’d been expecting, possessing a receding hairline and silvery eyes. He wore a long loose tunic in the rich hue of his house, and an ornate longsword strapped to his waist. I couldn’t help but wonder if the length of that sword was any indication of a determination to cut ties with his newly returned beloved. His expression—or what was evident of it through the mask—certainly spoke of discontent and anger combined.
“Our host does not look happy,” I murmured.
We stood near the far edge of the dance floor, watching the occupants move to a slow and sensual melody. It wasn’t a dance I knew, so I was glad when Trey made no fuss about my refusal to take part. I had no desire to reveal the awkward truth about my education—or lack thereof—when it came to things such as formal dances and manners, which were undoubtedly taught here from a very young age.
I sipped some wine and ran a hand down the silk of my dress to hold it in place against the teasing wind. Trey had rather generously ordered me an entire wardrobe. The evening outfits were all in the same pale lavender, but the daytime items were a softer, grayer tone. The dress I wore tonight had two full sleeves that ended with gloves, and a high neck that acted as a collar. The lavender material skimmed my waist then fell from my hips in a series of sheer loose panels that provided teasing glimpses of calf, thigh, and rump with every movement. It had also been designed with no back—the material at the front simply wrapped around my hips and skimmed across the top of my tailbone. Trey had one hand wrapped rather possessively around my waist, and it was causing all sorts of internal havoc. Which, I knew, was precisely his intent. The man was evil. And, despite his protestations, he really was made of the material whose name he bore. Certainly none of my overtures this afternoon—be they naked or not—had borne any fruit.
“We should go introduce ourselves,” he murmured. “It would be impolite otherwise.”
“I imagine it would.”
He guided me through the crowd toward Marcus, whose gaze skimmed past us and then abruptly returned. Recognition stirred in his eyes—he was well aware of who we were, masked or not. And if the glower he all but threw my way was anything to go by, he was certainly unimpressed with my presence in his house.
So why would he go to the trouble of inviting me?
“Lord M,” Trey said smoothly as he bowed. “May I present to you—”
“I know who she is,” he snapped, and then seemed to remember where he was. He drew in a breath and offered the required formalities. “Lady N, welcome to my house. I hope the goddess gifts you with a bountiful harvest for this coming year.”
I curtseyed. “And you, my lord.”